


Allura shipweek drabbles 2018

by HaroThar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura Shipweek 2018, Background Keith/Shiro - Freeform, Emotional Conversations, F/F, F/M, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Polyamory, Royalty, The Blade Of Marmora trials but with Hallura instead of Sheith, villain AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/pseuds/HaroThar
Summary: A collection of the shorts I wrote for Allura shipweek, all of them Hallura but one of them Halluray





	1. Princess/Paladin

First

First she was a princess. She was cool, ethereal, maybe just a tiny bit mean, but in her defense Lance _had_ flirted with her while she was confused and terrified and they _were_ really bad at the whole “forming Voltron” thing to start. Hunk had hardly blamed her for disliking them, but was impressed by her general ability to keep things professional. She was commanding, brilliant; a sharp, competent presence. Sure, Shiro was their leader, but Allura was their princess. Raised from birth to rule, with holy blood in her veins, her authority was unquestioned. 

Second

Second she was a paladin. She was the pink paladin, pilot of the blue lion, and she was good at it. Better at piloting her magic beast than any of them had been, sparing Keith, local wonder pilot of the garrison and galaxy alike. She synced in with the group easily, knowing them, trusting them, already family. Working with Allura was like working with Hunk’s own leg: an extension of himself, so familiar he could no longer imagine a life when she wasn’t at his side.

Together, Hunk and Allura were the team’s legs, supporting the others, uplifting them, offering warmth and strength in equal measure. They stood and fought side by side, on equal footing, perfectly matched. 

First

First he was a paladin. He did not believe himself suited to the role, but fate and the yellow lion both disagreed. Most importantly, he was kind. Kind and good and brave. So frightened, yes, but so very, very brave, to show unwavering kindness even in the face of all his fear. A good man with a full heart has much to protect, and “defender of the universe,” though a heavy title, fit perfectly atop his brow.

It was a long battle, one that spanned years, and through all the fighting, negotiating, the founding and growth of the coalition, the final end of the Galra empire, through betrayal and the slow inch of forward progress, Hunk stood at Allura’s side. Supporting her. Protecting her. Comforting her. Loving her.

Second 

Second he was a prince. Functionally, the title had no weight, as Altea was long laid to rest in the belly of some Weblum somewhere. But when Allura called him her prince- oh. In the quiet moments they rested together, when they danced in the kitchen, as she teased him, when she tried to butter him up because she needed something, when she proposed. “My prince” was just another variant of “my love,” and he never tired of hearing it from her. 

Coran walked her down the isle of their half-human, half-Altean wedding ceremony, and Hunk was already in tears. Pidge, his Best Man and best friend, patted his back and rolled their eyes. He’d done this at Keith and Shiro’s wedding too, so he could hardly imagine this came as a shock. 

By the end of their vows, he was a prince to her princess, a paladin sworn to her side, and the happiest man in the universe.


	2. Reality/Dreams

“You are not meant to go through that door.”

Allura glared, rubbing her injured shoulder through the suit they had lent her. This all seemed extraordinarily over the top just to prove that she was worth trusting with their secrets. Onward she went through the door, finding two people instead of one, then three, then four, on and on the number climbed, and each time she lost a little faster. She ached all over, each breath sending a sharp, shooting pain through her ribs, her shoulders. Her knees ached and popped as she moved, and she was afraid that if she knelt she would not be able to rise. This was torture.

“This is torture, just call it quits and let her leave!” Hunk told Kolivan, a daunting and icy presence at his side, watching the screen as impassively as a man might watch space-paint dry. “She couldn’t win against one of your dudes, she’s not gonna win against ten of them!”

“Eleven.”

“Oh because that’s so much better,” Hunk said sarcastically, crossing his arms. On someone more confident, the arms might signal some sort of closed off aggression. Hunk, however, was just worried.

Allura limped forward, breathing hard and dangerously dehydrated. She needed a way out. Not quitting, quitting wasn’t an option, but she needed an answer, a solution, something that didn’t involve her fighting-what? Twelve, thirteen adult Galra? In an act of desperate adrenaline, she threw her borrowed knife into the recessing wall door, and barely managed to slip through, sporting a new, deep slice on her bicep for her efforts where a Marmoran tried to stop her. 

The simple relief of not being surrounded by enemies was enough to make her fully collapse, her adrenaline spent. Around her, the suit quietly hummed. 

“Allura!” Hunk called as he rushed to her, kneeling down and gently cradling her shoulders, lifting her head up against the soft, warm bulk of him. She couldn’t think of a single thing she possibly could’ve wanted more, right then, and smiled weakly up at him, with just a hint of mirth.

“I suppose I really wasn’t meant to go through that door,” she joked, and his face creased into a worried smile.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Hunk asked Kolivan, still standing next to him, watching a phantom of himself rush to Allura’s side and lift her like he so dearly wanted to.

“The suit has a function that projects the wearer’s greatest hopes and fears,” Kolivan explained, “Right now, your friend desperately wants to see you.”

Hunk tried not to think too hard on what that meant. Allura tried rather hard to think anything at all. It was difficult, through the pain and receding adrenaline and the soft promise of safety that Hunk’s presence always emanated. It would be so easy to just rest a moment, trust that Hunk would never let any harm come to her while she was out. Slowly, her eyes dragged closed, and it grew harder and harder for her to open them back up with each blink.

“Hey, stay with me now,” Hunk said, worried yet always so gentle. His words were always spoken so kindly. “C’mon Allura, let’s get you upright.”

Even with Hunk’s help, standing was a monumental effort. Every fiber of her being protested it. She opened her mouth to make a rather morbid joke, aiming to soothe some of the creases around Hunk’s beautiful brown eyes, but was stopped by the door getting shot open. 

Galra who were not Blade members, who were wearing the same armor as the soldiers who had been there when Allura’s father had-

Allura couldn’t react fast enough, her pathetic body too injured, their guns too swift, Hunk’s body too obvious a target.

“NO!!!” Allura cried, feeling like she herself had been shot, watching Hunk stagger back a half step before collapsing on the ground.

“No, no, no, Hunk no, don’t, you can’t-“ she babbled as she fell to her knees next to him, vainly pressing her hands to the bleeding wound, her enemies forgotten, irrelevant. 

“No, please, Hunk, no, I’ve lost everyone, Hunk I’ve already lost everyone, not you too, I can’t lose you too, no!” she begged as she began sobbing, her tears falling hard and fast. “Please,” she screamed, voice raw and hoarse, “please! I’ve lost my family and my friends and my home already please not you too not you too not you not Hunk please,” her pleading quieted, choked whispering strangled out past her sobbing. “Please I can’t bear to lose you too.”

“This is cruel!” Hunk told Kolivan, fingers itching, blood pumping agitatedly through his ears. “Enough! Just call it off!”

“Victory or death. She either proves to us that we can trust her, or she dies.”

Hunk looked Kolivan in the face for a solid two seconds before punching him in it. Sure, Kolivan was a Galra, but Hunk was many, many pounds of hard work and pissed off. He brought the butt of his gun down on the other guy’s head, a little less hard, and then had to apologetically hit him again to knock him out. He rushed to Allura, needing her to know he was okay, needing to get that quicknaking suit off of her.

“Allura!” Hunk called as he barreled through the door, finding her sobbing over his (strikingly realistic) corpse (don’t vomit don’t vomit don’t vomit). The illusion wavered, but Allura just stared at him with incomprehension. 

“Allura, none of this is real, this is all fake, it’s okay, I’m right here, the Galra dudes in weird armor are gone, they were never here in the first place, I’m safe, you’re safe, I’m okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he assured her, kneeling to her side and rubbing her shoulders. “Well, sort of. You’re pretty banged up from fighting a whole bunch of people, but nobody’s like, dying.”

Allura, wordlessly, reached out and cupped Hunk’s face, then turned so swiftly her neck popped and felt the apparition. Her hand passed through the corpse like mist, and she felt herself keen again. Hunk was alive. She hadn’t lost him. It was enough to set her crying all over again, flinging herself at him and burying her face in his shoulder. His warm (alive!) hands soothed her, stroking her aching back and petting gently at her hair above her bun. His voice in her ear was so heart wrenchingly gentle she felt she could die.

When the door opened again, she was on her feet in an instant, blade drawn, her body between Hunk and whoever was there, the memory of his death still fresh in her mind. 

Kolivan glared at them a moment, flanked by two soldiers with their masks up. His was down, and he was sporting a truly impressive bruise and what looked to be a broken nose. 

“We’re. Leaving,” Hunk asserted from behind her, bayard drawn. 

Kolivan nodded. “You are not meant to go through that door,” he said, gesturing behind him.

“Then what door are we meant to go through!” Allura snapped, unwilling to admit she was afraid of what would happen to Hunk if they tried to pass by Kolivan.

“Go up the elevator you took down here, then back the way you came.”

“Is this some sort of riddle?” Hunk asked as Allura’s brain started turning. 

“Hunk, let’s just do it,” Allura said softly, and Altea bless this precious, perfect boy, he nodded his assent. They followed Kolivan’s orders, going past the throngs of people that had soundly defeated Allura. She remained utterly on edge throughout, worried of one of them attacking, of somebody going for Hunk.

But they didn’t. They left the way they came. Allura got her armor back on when told she wasn’t meant to wear the BoM suit, they kept walking when told they weren’t meant to know the BoM’s secrets, and Kolivan met them in the hangar with the blue lion. 

“I think I understand now,” Allura said, and Hunk made a soft, questioning noise behind her.

Kolivan arched an eyebrow. 

“Trust. You gave me orders that didn’t fit with what I believed made sense, and I disobeyed them. Thinking I knew better. The result was pain and-“ her voice caught, thinking back to the blood, her palms itching with the phantom memory of it, “-and loss. I needed to trust your direction, even if it went against what I wanted, because if I can’t trust you to guide me, you cannot trust me with your secrets, or trust me to be a worthy ally.”

Kolivan was not an expressive man, but he did smile a little at that. “And our trust, I think you may have earned. We will not tell you everything, only what you need to know, but the Blade of Marmora is willing to partner with the Paladins of Voltron.”


	3. Sacrifice/Protection

“You could’ve left,” she said softly, before Hunk even knew she was there. He looked up from the bowl of what he hoped was cookie dough, still rolling a pinch of it into a nice ball so he could press it flat on the tray. “We would all have assumed you had died. The portal was open; Earth was clearly visible. The coms were down; it was a perfect shot for someone who didn’t want to be here to go home and forget about this all. You could have left.”

Calmly, Hunk pressed the dough against the pan, pinched another chunk out of the bowl, and began rolling it.

“Of course I could have. I could leave any time I wanted to, princess. Load up the map, grab the coordinates, plug in my destination and fly Yellow there. It’d take us maybe two weeks at Yellow’s top speed? Two and a half? Depends on where we are right now. But I always have the option of leaving.”

He pressed the ball to the tray, flattening it a little harsher than the others. A little flatter.

“And yeah, sometimes I really want to. Sometimes I think about my mom and how she has no idea of where I am or if I’m even still alive, or I think of her warm hands and how I always feel safer-“ Hunk felt himself tearing up, and took a deep breath. His voice was climbing in pitch just thinking about his mother. “She’s a single mom, you know? Worked herself to the bone for me, it was only after I enrolled in the garrison that she even made time for dating again. She’s the most important person in my life and I miss her every day.”

Allura listened, resting one gloved arm on the counter, eyes on Hunk even as his never left the cookie dough. She understood.

“But this is bigger than me, you know? What we’re doing here—saving the universe and all that. It’s. I can either go home and see my mom, or I can stay here and fight to protect her, and my whole planet, and every other person on every other planet. And I know that even though I love my mother and I miss my home, everyone else would miss their homes and families too. So.”

He flattened the rest of the dough on the pan.

“Here I am.”

Allura reached out and scooped a bit of residual dough out of the inside of the bowl, licking it off her finger. It tasted good. Odd, but definitely something that would bake into a delicious treat.

“I have no home to return to,” she said softly, prompted to share by Hunk’s vulnerability. His honesty. “My family is long dead and my planet was destroyed. Coran is the closest thing I have to a father, nowadays, and you Paladins are the closest things I might ever have to siblings. I have no choice in this war, just a legacy to live up to and this unholy rage I need to find justice for.”

Now it was her turn to stare at the dough intently while his eyes searched her face, soft and empathetic. 

“But if they did exist, if I had that option, I wonder if I could be as noble as you,” she whispered. “I wonder if I could make that kind of sacrifice, especially when presented with a direct route home and a certainty that no one would even know what happened to me.”

“Well, for the record,” Hunk said, lifting the tray and turning to the oven, “I think you’ve got a good heart, Allura, and even though it would be hard I don’t think you would’ve hesitated to jump back in the fray and keep fighting to protect the universe.”

“...thank you, Hunk.”


	4. Sun/Stars

It was an old wives tale on Altea, or perhaps the remnant of some ancient religion, that people were made with two hands for a good reason. One hand was built to love, to gently hold and caress and smooth down the agitation. The other was built to fight, protect, to swing hard and hit harder. One hand to hold another’s and one hand to beat someone else’s off. Allura wondered if, perhaps, the ancient gods had got a little mixed up when making her, and had given her two hands to hold instead. 

Hunk was like a sun, in her life. Present, close, ever burning and always on her mind save only when she slept (and sometimes even then, his phantom would keep her company in her dreams). His hands were broad and always warm, rough in all the places hers were smooth but softer in the places where she’d grown calluses from weapon handling. They were not warrior hands, but the sturdy hands of a worker or a tradesman. Someone who built and baked and worked with his machines and handled the hot kitchenware he was too busy to grab a mitt for. But always, always warm. And always, always gentle on her. 

Hunk’s hands were earthy the same way a sun warmed rock is, or summer soil in the daytime. But regardless of the Yellow Lion’s element, Allura always saw him as a paladin of the sun. His hands on her skin did not burn, but softly warmed her with their presence. 

Shay was like the stars. She was too distant most times, safe on the Balmera while Allura and Hunk flew far away from her, leading separate lives, but at night they thought of her, would call her on the video chat and listen to her twinkling voice. So soft from a body alight with all the goodness of her soul. Her hands were broad but flighty, eager to skitter about, to do things, to learn and share. 

When Shay touched Allura, it sent goosebumps across her skin like a million tiny stars, all coming alight at her touch. Her palms were excitement and roughness, a hard texture that never once in all their times together felt unwelcoming. 

Allura loved her cosmic darlings, loved the feeling of their hands in hers, and loved their hearts most of all, burning bright with kind souls alight in their chests.


	5. Hero/Villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: blood, death

“Shhhh,” Hunk whispered as he pushed back the bangs of the nameless, helpless alien. “Hush now, it’s alright,” he said softly, reassuring as a parent. “It’s all over, you can rest now.”

“Please no,” it begged, sobbing weakly, clutching at its side where a particularly ruddy shade of blood weeped through. 

“Shhhhh,” he soothed again, taking the alien’s small head between his two hands. It choked out a high, terrified noise, and with a snap so familiar to Hunk it might as well have been white noise the crying cut out and the frail body slumped.

“It’s a waste of time,” Allura said from her dais, staring down her nose at the corpse. 

“It’s worth the waste,” Hunk responded casually, standing up. “You can always tell which ones are the rebels and which ones are just slaves lured in by the rebels’ promises of freedom. Poor thing probably thought it could help fight back against the Altean empire and would be rewarded for it. Or maybe got bullied into it by the rebels, who knows.” Hunk approached her, smiling. “Either way, it’s worth it to give the little thing a touch of reassurance and a quick death.”

Allura sighed and accepted the kiss Hunk offered her. “You sap,” she said, but affectionately.

“It’s what I do.”


End file.
